


A Pointed Negotiation

by notaverse



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Aurnion, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Spoilers, grey asexual character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaverse/pseuds/notaverse
Summary: Yuri and Flynn have always communicated better with swords in their hands. (Which is not a euphemism, no matter how much Yuri would like it to be.)
Relationships: Yuri Lowell/Flynn Scifo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	A Pointed Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [threewalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/gifts).



> Many thanks to [threewalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls) for a) getting me into this wonderful game in the first place and b) having the patience of a saint going through so many revisions of this fic with me. We got there in the end!

Yuri's not interested in losing fights. It's just that his definition of winning involves more damage to himself than most people would expect.

And sure, maybe it's not a particularly knightly virtue to take such pleasure in it. He's supposed to be fighting to protect the citizens of the empire, not for the thrill of the challenge or the inevitable consequences when they get into it. No reason he can't do both, though. He's only been an Imperial Knight for a couple of months; he can be forgiven for not being perfect.

Unlike Flynn, who, despite being a lower quarter brat like himself, has somehow become the very epitome of knighthood in short order. Maybe he just looks more respectable. He's certainly better at obeying orders. Yuri's kind of bad at that. He wants to do the right thing... just not necessarily always in the way that the Knights seem to think it should be done.

"Did you just bait that guy into thinking you were a girl so you could punch him out?" Flynn asks, standing over the unconscious form of Yuri's latest victim.

Yuri supposes he can't blame Flynn for sounding exasperated. They're off-duty and out of uniform, supposedly having a quiet meal and a drink in the inn near their barracks, and Flynn's barely had a chance to touch his food yet. Still, now perhaps they'll get it for free, given his good deed for the evening.

He shrugs, letting his loose black jacket slip even further down one shoulder. It always works. Show a little bare skin—doesn't matter how flat his chest is, to guys like this—and let his hair spill down over it, framing a face he knows is prettier than most girls in town. Gets them every time. "He kept grabbing the serving girls. Maybe next time he reaches for a girl, he'll remember how one knocked him down for trying it and think twice."

"That's hardly the way to keep order."

Yuri grins, flexing fingers that are still stinging deliciously from the crash of bone against bone. "Maybe not, but we're off-duty. Besides, I should be allowed to defend myself, don't you think? Or were you planning to play gallant knight and come to my rescue?"

"Since when do you need rescuing?" Flynn says, and goes to tender their apologies to the innkeeper.

He looks back at Yuri while he's apologising, though, and there's something in his face that Yuri recognises—a brief flicker, only for a moment, as he explains why there's a man lying on the floor next to their table. It's almost pride, but Yuri knows what Flynn looks like when he's proud of someone, and this isn't quite it.

Or... no, perhaps it is, and this is how he looks when he's proud of _Yuri_ , specifically. Confident, and approving, and warm, and... _interested_ , like Yuri's done something he finds fascinating and he wants to take him apart piece by piece to find out how he works.

Yuri wouldn't mind letting him, though he's not sure Flynn's aware of that fact. For all that he's so observant in other ways, Flynn's not very good at noticing stuff like that—or it's possible he's merely good at ignoring it, Yuri can't tell. He's watched Flynn brush off casual passes from strangers, and remain completely oblivious to more serious offers from friends.

Yuri's never offered, much though he'd like to. He wonders if Flynn would brush _him_ off, too.

Flynn doesn't get that glint in his eye when Yuri would expect him to. Not when they're side by side in the showers, or scrambling out of their clothes at night, familiar bodies on full display with the kind of casual comfort that comes from living side-by-side in extremely close quarters for years—occasions when Yuri, increasingly over the past few months, has had to remind himself not to stare. He hasn't been able to pinpoint, yet, what works for Flynn, but he starts paying closer attention in an attempt to figure it out.

It happens again when the two of them are fighting side by side, taking out a family of axe beaks who'd made their nest near the schoolhouse and Flynn's as caught up in the action as Yuri, which makes Yuri wonder if perhaps that's it, that the thrill and energy of a fight does as much for Flynn as for Yuri himself. On the other hand, there's also the time they corner a pair of notorious thieves, and Flynn doesn't even need to draw his sword to take the one into custody. The other makes a break for it out the nearest open window. Yuri immediately dives after him and gives chase, returning shortly afterwards with the unconscious thief slung over his shoulder. Flynn bursts out laughing when Yuri explains that he did not, in fact, have to draw his sword either to subdue his quarry and that the idiot had managed to knock himself out by tripping on a stone. No fighting involved... but Flynn's still gazing at him with something that might be hunger in his eyes.

The next time's after the pair of them have broken up a brawl in the marketplace—started by a guy who'd insisted he was being overcharged for watermelons, of all things—and Yuri's arms are smarting from shielding a couple of kids from a falling stall. Flynn had been the one to haul the thing off him, worry in his eyes giving way to relief upon seeing all three of them safe and—mostly—sound.

Relief, and then... something else, just a glimmer, Flynn's gaze lingering on Yuri even while he helps the kids find their parents. Yuri lets him watch, keeps catching him at it as they help to straighten up the marketplace. He's still not sure what it means, and as pleasant as it feels, Flynn's eyes on him a bonus following the buzz from the brawl, this mystery's gone on long enough.

When they're back at the barracks and Flynn's gaze hasn't faltered, Yuri decides to tackle him about it.

"What?" he asks. "Have I got splinters in my hair or something?"

Flynn does a slow circle around him, scanning Yuri's hair from root to tip. "I can't see anything."

"Then why do you keep looking at me like you want to strip me down and dust me off?"

"Yuri!" Flynn sounds mortified.

It's possible, Yuri thinks, that he's not even aware he's doing it, which makes trying to ask him about it all the more frustrating. "No? Because you've barely taken your eyes off me since you got me out from under that stall."

Flynn's response is slow in coming, forcing Yuri to tamp down his impatience while he watches Flynn's expression cycle through indignation, confusion, and then, finally, resolution. He takes that as a good sign. Once Flynn's made up his mind about something, it usually gets done, one way or another. Yuri just hopes what Flynn's made up his mind about, in this case, is him.

"You could've been killed, throwing yourself under that stall."

"Those kids definitely would've been if I hadn't." Yuri shrugs. "Wouldn't be much of a Knight if I hadn't at least tried to protect them."

"Sometimes I'm not sure you're much of a Knight anyway," Flynn says, softening the comment with a teasing lilt, "but whatever your faults, a lack of courage isn't one of them."

"And you're, what, worried I'm hiding injuries from you so you want to take off all my clothes and check for yourself?" Yuri figures maybe if he puts the option out there, Flynn might get where he's coming from. "Because I'd be okay with that, just so you know. More than okay."

He lets Flynn have his moment to mull it over. If the thought hasn't crossed Flynn's mind before—and he's seen no evidence to say it has—then best to let him consider it, think about all the possibilities, all the ways in which he might like to touch and be touched by Yuri. And if he's light on thoughts, well... Yuri's not above making a few suggestions. Or below. Any way Flynn might like him.

Flynn's reply sounds more amused than surprised, but Yuri has to work pretty hard to catch him off-guard, these days. "It's not like that."

"No?"

"Not... exactly," Flynn concedes, and there's a flush of pink in his cheeks that gives Yuri hope he might be not be too far off the mark with his guesses. "It's not that I don't want..." He trails off, looking away. "I don't know how to put it into words."

"So don't use words." Yuri taps the hilt of his sword, because fighting has always helped the conversation flow more freely between them. When they're moving on instinct, they're not thinking about their words and tripping themselves up in the process. "Let's talk with these instead."

Flynn gives him a grateful smile. "That might work better."

"Right? And then you can see for yourself that I'm not injured, when I beat you."

"I think you mean when _I_ beat _you_."

Yuri flashes him a grin and risks throwing a taunt his way. "Sure, if you can take me down, you can check me all over for injuries as much as you like." Just in case Flynn somehow misses the point, he runs a hand down the front of his body for emphasis. " _All over._ "

Flynn returns the grin, shaking his head at Yuri's antics. "You're impossible!"

"That's not a 'no'."

Flynn doesn't respond, only grabs a couple of wooden practice swords and leads him out to the courtyard without another word. When they're outside, he throws one of the wooden swords to Yuri, who catches it easily. They're both armed with real swords, of course, but Flynn would insist on shields and considerably more armour if they were to fight each other with those, and he'd be more careful. Yuri doesn't want Flynn to be careful with him.

But because this is Flynn, and he's always been more careful than Yuri, he checks: "Usual rules?"

"Yeah; nothing so serious it can't be healed by morning with a gel," Yuri says, because he might be reckless but he's not stupid, and besides, any sign of a major injury and he knows Flynn will put a stop to it immediately. He's reliable like that. "Anything you want to add?"

Flynn shakes his head. "No, not if that's what you want."

"The question here is what _you_ want, not me."

"I want to... know what I want."

"Then come at me and find out," Yuri suggests, sword held at the ready.

Flynn takes him up on it.

They must've done this hundreds of times as kids, striving to get better in the hopes that one day they'd be able to protect everyone with their skills. They're older now—stronger, with more technique, and at least in Yuri's case, with some additional motivation. He's not sure if Flynn intends to rise to his challenge or not, but either way, he's definitely not holding back.

The crack of wood against wood reverberates up Yuri's left arm as Flynn comes at him again and again. The first time Flynn breaks through his guard the sword catches him on his unprotected upper arm, between shoulder plate and gauntlet. Yuri grunts at the sudden burst of pain, but it's good, this is good, there'll be a bruise tomorrow and every time he presses down on it he'll think of Flynn's face, fierce and determined and full of everything Flynn hasn't yet managed to find a way to say.

They fall easily into familiar patterns, trading the occasional good-natured jab at each other's skills. Flynn's yet to open up but he's getting there, his movements becoming more fluid as he gives himself over to the flow of the fight and lets his instincts take over. He's a joy to watch. Not that Yuri can afford to watch, much, because Flynn cheerfully attempts to trip him up when he notices Yuri's distracted, and Yuri has to move fast to avoid taking an embarrassing tumble.

Back and forth they go, neither willing to back down until Yuri catches a glancing blow from Flynn's gauntlet on his cheek as he weaves the wrong way to avoid a strike, and Flynn recoils, putting his sword up and stepping back.

Confused, Yuri lets his own sword fall to his side, pressing the fingers of his free hand to his smarting face. That's definitely going to be a black eye, without a gel. "What?"

"You could've dodged that," Flynn says, frowning at him.

"Maybe?" Yuri's not so sure, as much as he'd like to think his skills are more-or-less equal to Flynn's. "I can't always predict your moves."

"I almost took your eye out!"

"You're exaggerating. It's my face; I can feel exactly where you hit it." Yuri drops his hand back to his side to prove that his eye is still very much intact. "See? It'll be fine."

"Don't." Flynn's voice tightens. "Why are you always like this?"

"Like what?" It's clear that Flynn's mad about something, but Yuri can't tell what.

"Reckless! You... you don't even care if you get hurt, do you?"

"Does it matter?" It does matter to Yuri whether he gets hurt, how much and under what circumstances, but that's not something he ever thought he'd have to explain to Flynn. He'd assumed Flynn already knew.

Fortunately for Yuri, Flynn must not be expecting to get an explanation out of him, because he sighs and says, "Forget it. I don't know why I'm even bothering to try to talk to you about it."

There's disappointment there, and resignation, and when Yuri takes a closer look, that glimmer's all but gone from Flynn's eyes. Something he's said? Or perhaps something he _hasn't_ said? Still, Flynn hasn't called off the match yet.

Yuri pushes, because he always does. "You wanted to know what you want, remember?" He brandishes his wooden sword again. "And it doesn't sound like you do yet."

It feels different, this time, as Flynn comes at him with swift, detached efficiency, the perfect Knight demonstrating perfect technique to the small crowd of onlookers who've gathered in the courtyard since they began. Whatever personal stake Flynn had in this bout before, it's gone now. Yuri's no longer fighting the lower quarter brat he'd grown up with, his fellow orphan and best friend, with whom he'd shared what little he had—his opponent is Flynn Scifo, the talented rookie Knight.

And that means there's only one way this can end.

Yuri's collection of bruises grows. His back, when Flynn manages to pin him up against a wall. His hip, scraped on the corner of said wall as he slides free. His right forearm, when he can't get his sword up in time and ends up blocking a strike with his gauntlet instead. Flynn's utterly relentless, pressing forwards with such focus and determination that despite Yuri's best efforts, their bout ends the same way as always—with Flynn victorious, and Yuri half-furious at having lost yet again, and half-proud because Flynn's so amazing. Yuri's no weakling, and it's always a close thing, but somehow Flynn keeps coming out on top.

Which isn't to say Yuri minds, when he finds himself lying on his back in the courtyard, the tip of Flynn's practice sword resting against his throat. They're both panting from the exertion; Yuri's uniform is soaked with sweat and everything aches. He feels _amazing_. It's been a good fight—it's always good, with Flynn—but even if the physical side of it is satisfying, Flynn's abrupt change of mood is anything but.

As for Flynn, he doesn't sound remotely satisfied with his victory. "Do you yield, Yuri?"

Yuri considers refusing, just to annoy him, but even he's not quite reckless enough to try to flip back to his feet with a weapon at his throat. "I yield," he says, wincing at the sting of his teeth scraping against his tongue. He must've bitten it when he hit the ground.

Flynn's eyes soften at that, the perfect Knight giving way to just plain Flynn again. He withdraws his sword and offers a hand down to Yuri to help him up. Yuri takes it, happy to let Flynn do the work of hauling him to his feet after a bad landing, and starts dusting himself off.

"You're bleeding a little, here," Flynn says, pointing to the corner of his own mouth.

"Oh?" Yuri swipes at his mouth, coming away with a red smear on his gauntlet. "Think I bit my tongue when I landed."

"Sorry." Flynn has the good grace to look sheepish. "I think I let that get out of hand."

"I'll live," Yuri says. "It was still a good fight."

"Which you look like you lost _horribly_. Come on, let's get you some gels so that you don't terrify everyone who sees you tomorrow."

Yuri's pretty sure, after Flynn's sudden mood change, that he's not talking about anything more than just fixing up Yuri's face, but when he's riding the high from a fight he doesn't always know when to keep his mouth shut. "Going to personally check me over for injuries? The offer's still open, you know."

"It's not that simple, Yuri."

Yuri shrugs. "Most things aren't. Did I... did I do something to make you mad?" He quickly replays the fight in his mind, searching for the moment Flynn's mood changed. "My eye? I really don't think I could've dodged it, Flynn. It's not like I let you hit me on purpose."

As much as he's happy to take the damage that comes from throwing himself wholeheartedly into a fight, there are some body parts where he'd rather not risk pushing the limits of either the human body or gels to heal, and eyes are at the top of that list. He'd never have let that blow land if he could've avoided it, just in case it had been worse than it had ended up being.

"I'm not mad at you, just..." Flynn sighs. "Frustrated."

"I'm frustrated by you too, but probably for a different reason," Yuri says. "One I think you're not likely to be in the mood to appreciate at the moment."

"I'd like to be, I think, but... not right now."

It's not as if the way their duel had ended had realistically left any opening for something to happen with Flynn today, but it still stings a little to hear it. Even so, this is hardly the first time he's been on a high from a fight without anyone to work it off with him, and it's unlikely to be the last. He'll live. Besides, Flynn's answer leaves room for hope for another day.

"Did it help you figure anything out?"

"Some things, maybe." Flynn smiles and takes Yuri's practice blade from him, squeezing his fingers in passing. "It's a work in progress. I'll let you know how it goes."

Yuri might've lost the match, but if it had helped Flynn start to work through his feelings, he'll take it as a win. And he still got a good fight out of it, too, even if he's about to lose all his hard-earned bruises along with his budding black eye because gels don't discriminate when it comes to damage. "Take all the time you need," he says. "Not like I'm going anywhere."

Or so he thinks, before he leaves the Knights forever.

* * *

It's a long time before they meet again. Yuri's back in the lower quarter, surrounded by all the people who raised him and who insist on telling him every time they hear about some new accomplishment of Flynn's, as if by doing so they'll rouse his competitive spirit and make him rejoin the Knights. If that's their game, it doesn't work on him. He knows he's not suited to being a Knight. He'll live his life on his own terms.

That life rapidly becomes more complicated once the lower quarter floods and Yuri discovers the aque blastia core's missing, starting a chain of events that leads him to new places and new friends—and one _old_ friend: Flynn. Still a perfect Knight, still one of the best people Yuri knows, and still just as frustrating—in every sense of the word—as ever.

They keep butting heads over how to mete out justice every time their paths cross, but as it turns out, their differences don't count for much at the end of the world. 

That doesn't stop Flynn from trying to persuade Yuri to start taking credit for his own heroic actions, though. Yuri might've changed since his days as a Knight, but not _that_ much, and it doesn't matter to him who's seen to be doing things as long as they get done. Flynn doesn't have the words to convince him otherwise.

So Yuri offers him a chance to find them. He draws his sword and offers it up as an alternative means of communication: Flynn, frustrated and ridiculously earnest with his feelings, leaps at the chance. 

They haven't fought like this since just before Yuri left the Knights. The Coliseum doesn't count, not that Zagi had let them finish the match anyway, and Yuri's not sure which of them would've won that in the end. He's equally uncertain now, with the two of them slipping out from this fledgling town they've founded between them to continue an old argument. 

This time the swords are real and the artes fly freely, both of them older and so much better, every scrap of skill and experience they've accumulated both together and apart thrown into one final whirlwind of a battle. Yuri can let loose without hesitation, knowing Flynn will match him strike for strike. Flynn fights back just as eagerly. It's always been his best look—fierce, confident in his skills, and fully focussed on Yuri.

Yuri jumps lightly over a burst of Demonic Chaos to reach Flynn with a whirling Shining Fang. Flynn blocks each strike, sword as much a blur as Yuri's, and through the clash of metal Yuri can tell Flynn's grin matches his own. The energy they generate every time they fight is so powerful that if Yuri possessed any talent for magic whatsoever he could probably fuel a few dozen spells. There's never been anyone else who can match his intensity the way Flynn can.

There's no way Flynn's going to succeed in convincing Yuri to take credit for all his actions in helping to save the world, but when he talks about it, there's that familiar glimmer in his eyes again, and that's almost enough to persuade Yuri otherwise. Almost. It also makes him think he might have a shot at changing the subject to Flynn instead. Flynn hadn't managed to update Yuri on his 'work in progress' before Yuri had left the Knights, and it's not like they've had any real time to themselves since crossing paths again. Now they've finally got a few moments of relative peace, Yuri decides to chance bringing it up.

"I like you like this," he says, right up in Flynn's face, sword to sword. "All fired up."

"I told you: everything I feel is in this sword." Flynn shoves him away; Yuri jumps back to avoid a Dragon Swarm. "How could I be anything else?"

Yuri drops his voice to a low purr, mostly to see what effect, if any, it has on Flynn. "Good. So while you're busy _feeling_ things... I could be one of those things? If you wanted?"

Flynn falters mid-strike, staring at him wide-eyed. "Are you _always_ like this when you fight?"

"Only when I'm fighting you," Yuri says. "What, you think I'd throw myself at just anyone?"

He's had more than his fair share of fights, and these days he has no shortage of people who'd like to take a crack at him, but as much as he enjoys those battles, he's not about to try climb into bed with any of his opponents. After all, none of them are Flynn. 

He wonders, for a moment, if he's reading too much into it, if perhaps Flynn had found his answer after Yuri left and had come to the conclusion that it didn't need to involve Yuri. But then Flynn unfreezes, finding his momentum once more. He rushes at Yuri with a Sword Rain, letting loose a flurry of blows.

"I think you'd do whatever you wanted. You always do!"

Yuri has his work cut out for him to block each attack, but this isn't their first duel, and he comes away without so much as a scratch. "Not everything I wanted. You turned me down, remember?"

"I didn't mean it to be for good." Flynn passes his sword hilt back and forth between his hands. "After you left the Knights, I thought it didn't matter if I never figured it out. And then I met you in Capua Nor, and..."

"And?"

"And... you were just as willing as ever to endanger yourself in order to save others." Flynn smiles wryly. "Even if you insisted that you'd never done a reckless thing in your life and tried to convince me you were only chasing a blastia thief."

"I was," Yuri says. "Mostly. I didn't know what it was going to turn into. So what does that have to do with anything?"

Flynn stops toying with his sword, lowering the blade to his side and his eyes to the grass. They're both breathing hard from the fight; Yuri watches him take several slow, deep breaths before deciding to jump in first himself. He needs Flynn to see he's serious about this. 

"Look, Flynn, you asked me if I was always like this in fights, and yeah, I get a little caught up in them sometimes—" He cuts himself off, realising he's not helping his case, and tries a better angle. "It's different with you. I don't even know when it started, but even all that time we didn't see each other... you were the only person I wanted. Not just for a little fun after a fight, but for the rest of our lives.

"That might just be tonight. We could all die trying to save the world tomorrow and I didn't want that to happen without letting you know how I felt, that I meant it. You don't feel the same, all you have to do is say so and I'll drop it. We're still friends, either way."

Without the noise of battle, the clearing is silent, yet Flynn's barely audible when he says, "Would you... would you still want me even if I didn't always want you back?"

"Huh?"

"Sometimes," Flynn continues, louder now even if he still won't meet Yuri's eyes, "I watch you throw yourself in harm's way to protect those who can't protect themselves, without worrying for a moment whether or not it's going to get you killed, and all I want to do is... personally check every inch of you for damage afterwards." 

They're both already flushed from exertion, but somehow Flynn manages to go darker, with that last part, so Yuri's fairly certain Flynn's not talking about using one of his curative artes on him.

"I'd enjoy that," Yuri says.

"You've made that very clear." Flynn looks up, offers him a halting smile. "But then other times, I watch you pick fights, or let yourself take damage I know you could've avoided, and all I feel is... conflicted. You could get yourself hurt—really hurt—or even killed, for no reason at all."

"Fair enough, but I do usually have a good reason if I go picking fights, even if it doesn't look like it at the time, and the damage thing..." Yuri hasn't had much luck trying to explain to anyone else, but he figures he ought to at least try with Flynn, when Flynn's finally willing to talk this out with him. "It's not that I'm taking damage I could've avoided. I'm not trying to lose fights, you know? But I'm not afraid to get a little roughed up before I win. I like it better that way. The harder I fight, the better it feels afterwards."

"And when the fight's all over and you're covered in bruises?"

Yuri gives him a grin full of fond memories. "Then too. I don't know how to explain it any better to you, sorry. I thought you knew."

"I should've guessed when you were always so pleased if I knocked against your bruises by accident."

"What you did by accident, I do on purpose—and assuming we survive whatever comes next, I'm gonna keep doing it, with or without you." Yuri extends his free hand to Flynn, who's not standing close enough to take it, but it's the gesture that counts. "But I'd rather it was with."

"We do make a good team," Flynn says, "but are you even listening to me?"

"Hey! I'm listening," Yuri protests. "It's a turn-on for you when I'm being all noble and heroic, right? So what about when I'm not fighting at all, just... being me?"

That starts Flynn laughing at him. "You're most yourself when you're fighting, Yuri."

That's true, although the way the past several weeks have gone, Yuri's spent considerably more time in battle than ever before—and given the other members of Brave Vesperia, he thinks it's unlikely his life's going to get much quieter. "Okay, but when I'm not?"

Flynn tries several replies before discarding them. "Then... it's not that I don't... it's not as if you're not..." He settles for an apologetic wince, and, "It's not the same. It isn't as though I like you any less as a friend."

"But you're not interested in anything more than that if I'm not specifically doing something that works for you, is that it?"

Flynn's shoulders slump, which is all the answer Yuri needs. He considers this for a moment. "As long as it doesn't mean you suddenly hate me, it doesn't really matter. And I get in a lot of fights, so this could probably work out."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"That you're only into me under certain conditions? No." Flynn brightens at that, but that's not the only potential sticking point, and they won't get anywhere if he takes issue with Yuri's injuries. Yuri has to check. "Does it bother you that I like getting roughed up when I fight?"

"I never like seeing you get hurt, but... no. Not now you've explained how it feels for you, even if I can't say I understand it."

That's a relief, for Yuri. "Can't say I get how things are for you either, but it doesn't matter."

"No one else I've met seems to work like me. You really don't think that it's weird?"

Yuri shrugs. "Only you know how you feel, and if it's normal for you, why should it matter if it's weird to anyone else?"

"I... suppose it shouldn't."

"Then it doesn't. It's nobody's business but ours, anyway, and it's not a problem for me." Yuri doesn't need to understand it to be certain they can work with it. "You know me better than anyone else in the world, and you know what I've done, but you're still here with me. You think I'd push you away _now_?"

"You do the things I can't," Flynn says. "Even when you shouldn't. It's simultaneously the thing that annoys me the most and that I like the most about you."

Now it's Yuri's turn to laugh. "I can live with that. You do what I would never have the patience to do."

"You have more patience than you think, if you're still propositioning me after all this time."

"Gonna reward my patience?"

"I remember that being conditional, last time. Do I still have to win a fight?"

"What, scared you might actually lose this time?" Yuri teases, pleased that Flynn remembers that from their last fight.

"You've gotten better," Flynn says, frankly. "It's possible."

From the blows they've exchanged thus far, Yuri can tell Flynn's improved, too. They're both leagues better than they were when Yuri left the Knights, and he thinks he might even have closed the skills gap between himself and Flynn—or at least narrowed it enough to make Flynn's victory much less certain than it would've been in the past. Yuri hadn't really let himself think about what it would mean for him to win, before. That hadn't been the point of instigating this battle in the first place.

"I'll make it easy on you," he says. "That offer still stands: take me down and I'm all yours—if you want me. If I take you down instead, same thing. Doesn't matter who wins."

"Really?" Flynn says. "Then how about some extra incentive? If I win, you come with me to see Prince Ioder and we tell him all the things you've done."

Yuri groans, because that's exactly what he'd started this fight to avoid, but Flynn looks so delighted by the idea that he might get to brag about Yuri's good deeds that it's impossible for him to protest. "Forget what I said about it not mattering who wins; now I'm definitely gonna kick your ass."

"Not if I kick yours first."

"And if you do, I'll enjoy every second of it." Yuri extends his free hand again, this time with curled fingers flexing in a taunt. "Bring it on!"


End file.
